It's late, I don't have a lot to say tonight. It's not that it hasn't been an active day, but it is still percolating. So here's a poem and some photos from the day.
Talking to the Ceiling
Late at night
Insomniac behavior
Desire to twist my large
Body all around itself
To hold myself
To keep myself from being afraid
That the creatures
Both real and imaginative
Will come out and get me.
Talking to the ceiling
Too early in the morning
It’s still dark and cold;
Brrr it’s cold
there are no birds
beginning to sing
Only a hoot of an owl
The sound of a coyote
that eternal rumble
Of a slow moving
Freight train
Weighing down the tracks
Shaking the walls
Past 4 a.m.
Talking to the ceiling
When I shouldn’t be talking
To nobody
Especially not some God damn ceiling
making shadows move
floors creek.
I never thought I’d
Get use to the every night sound
Like someone’s walking
Up the tiny narrow staircase
I laugh in the face of fear
I shout in the face of darkness
I shutter with the roll
Of that heavy engine
Rolling closer and closer
And all I want
Is to sleep peacefully.
I fall back off to sleep
dream the dreams
of a warrior
out in the field
under the stars
without a pitched tent.
Just the shooting stars
to gaze upon
believe are
rays of fire to keep
all warm, alive.
Rays of forbidden fruits
To keep us quenched.
I dream the dreams
of a painter
caught with too
few brushes
Left without a canvas,
making due.
Struggling as
models parade past
my studio.
Talking to the ceiling
as the sun does rise.
A glow of pink in
the horizon;
Silence until the
cars drive by in
faster procession.
At the end of the day, before I met friends for a burger, I went to the cove to watch the sun go down. Someone was para skating out in the middle of the river with a giant red glider. It was beautiful to watch. It was noiseless and the sun went down and that winter midnight blue filled up the whole place with calm.
Thanks Lindy. I just showed this to Hannah, she says thanks.
ReplyDelete